


Daddy's Baby & Grandfather's Plight

by writerspassion18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Children, Family, Family Secrets, Minor Character Death, Protectiveness, Revenge, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerspassion18/pseuds/writerspassion18
Summary: Draco loves his son, Alex, even under the circumstances. As those circumstances rear their ugly head in the form of one Artemis Nott, Draco and his wife will do anything to keep Alex safe and in Malfoy family hands.





	Daddy's Baby & Grandfather's Plight

**Author's Note:**

> *Written for TheMourningMadam's Fairytale Fest, based on my given fairytale, The Willow-Wren*

_ “'Is that the royal palace?' cried the bear; 'it is a wretched palace, and you are not King’s children, you are disreputable children!'" _

* * *

Some eight years ago, Draco had stumbled upon a broken Hermione Granger. The battle inside Hogwarts had been a mess, and yet amidst the hundreds of students running about, spells coursing through the halls, _he_ had been the one to find the brunette. The corridor she had been in was the quietest of them all with the exception of the witch’s sobbing. Truth be told, the blond had been surprised that her cries hadn’t attracted a Death Eater. Well, as he remembered the Dark Mark on his arm, he supposed it did.

Draco had had no intentions on killing her. Hell, he didn’t even want to _be_ there. That was why as he had approached the muggleborn his wand had been stowed, his hands gently outstretched, in case she attacked the moment she had seen him.

However, she didn’t see him. This had been a poor display of constant vigilance, but Draco didn’t think that she cared. Quite frankly, all of Draco’s attention had suddenly been diverted to the scene that had caused Hermione to break down in hysterics. He, too, lost his resolve, albeit not as openly as she, as he stared down at the scene.

Draco’s best friend had been sneaking off for months during their sixth year. He had rightly discerned that he had found a witch to hold onto his nether bits and never let go. His friend had never denied it, but when Draco asked every now and again who it was that was tickling his fancy, a response was never given. Draco had joked with him that she mustn’t have been pretty if he was hiding her. As Draco had stumbled upon, what he now realized was not only a moment of grief, but also perhaps an intimate and tender one, did he understand why the identity of the witch had remained secret for the past two years.

Theo was dead.

Hermione Granger was wracked with sobs as she cradled Theo’s body in her arms.

Draco couldn’t hold in his gasp for long, and despite her fit of sadness, Hermione had turned her wand on the person who had intruded on her. He remembered their conversation, clear as day, for it had been the catalyst to lead to the future he now shared with her.

_“I’m not armed,” Draco said quickly, his arms raised higher than they previously had been. “See? No wand. I just…” He gulped, his eyes settling on Theo’s body. His friend’s eyes were wide open, mouth slightly agape as though his death had been a surprise. The Killing Curse, most likely, for Draco could see no open wound. “Do you know who did it?”_

_Hermione still had her wand drawn, the other hand making sure that Theo stayed pressed against her. She remained silent for what felt like an eternity, tears slowly journeying down her cheeks to accompany the mass of wet at the bottom of her chin. She was analyzing him, Draco knew, and she only lowered her wand when she was sure that he wasn’t going to kill her._

_“I don’t know. I… I found him here.” Hermione closed her eyes, a muffled cry escaping her lips as both arms heaved Theo just a bit closer so that she could rest her cheek on his forehead. Draco was stunned. He was seeing it, yes, but even then, he was at a loss. There were so many things that he wanted to say, to do, and to ask, but before an attempt could be made, an explosion went off that was too close for comfort._

_“Granger,” Draco swallowed, a quick lick of his lips and a swallow to soothe his dry mouth. “You have to go.”_

_“No,” Hermione vehemently shook her head and kept her gaze on Theo. “I’m not going anywhere.”_

_“You **have** to. You’ll be dead if someone finds you here.”_

_A snort rang out from the witch, and whereas her crying had echoed in the hall, this new sound was being drowned out by the fighting that was drawing closer._

_“Granger–”_

_“Let them kill me.”_

_Draco’s body paused, and his eyes widened at her words. Another explosion went off, and this time he could feel it under his feet. A glance to his right made him aware of a wave of black smoke overhead, shortly to be met with its smell hitting his nose. He looked back at Hermione, this obviously defeated girl who would rather die than save her own life, and frowned. As much as he understood, for he also felt grief for his childhood friend, this wasn’t the time to be overcome with crippling despair._

_In a split-second decision, Draco kneeled on the floor, Theo’s body in between his and Hermione’s, and roughly grabbed the witch’s face and forced him to look at her._

_“Snap out of it! Theo’s dead, yes, but sitting here, crying over his body isn’t going to do anything to bring him back! Now, get your arse off of this floor, and **run**, damn it! It’s what Theo would want you to do, and you know it.”_

_“What makes you think that you know what Theo would have wanted,” Hermione snapped as she wrenched her face away from Draco’s hands. She tried to push him away as well, but he held steady, just like his gaze, as fury began to fill it._

_“He was my best friend. That’s how I know.”_

_“And he was the love of my life.”_

_“So?” Draco angrily scoffed. “That just means we loved him differently.”_

_Neither spoke, but in lieu of words, crashes from beyond were heard, the smell of burning fire, and the combined shouts of friends and enemies. Draco sighed and leaned over for Hermione’s wand. He lifted her curled arm from around Theo’s body, stuffed her wand into her hand and closed her fingers around it._

_“There’s still a war that needs fighting.” Draco briefly looked down at Theo, and he fought the urge to cry now that he had an up-close picture of his deceased friend. “I’ll take care of him.”_

Draco could still remember the expression of utter awe that Hermione had given him when he had promised to take care of Theo. There were things that she had wanted to say, and did say later in time, but at the moment had to be kept to herself. He remembered her determined attitude resurface, the kiss she had placed on Theo’s cheek, the gentleness with which she had placed his body onto the floor, and the hurried way she had risen to her feet and took off down the hall with her wand tightly clasped. Draco had kept his promise, transfiguring Theo’s body into a pocket watch on a chain that he hung around his neck.

That promise had included Theo being buried curtesy of the Malfoy Gringotts account seeing as the elder Nott had been incarcerated for his war crimes. It was at Theo’s funeral, some four months after the war, four months of wearing his best friend around his neck, that Draco saw Hermione again. Knowing that she would want to attend, he had owled her the details and advised that she came in disguise. On the day of the funeral, even though she hadn’t had her signature bushy brown hair, nor her normal complexion, Draco had still been able to pick her out. Everyone in attendance were sad, yes, but her sorrow had been a level of grief that had surpassed theirs. She and Draco had been the last to be in the cemetery, and while the only sentence she had said to him had been uttered in a near whisper, they had still been loud of enough to shatter glass.

_“I’m pregnant, and I need your help.”_

As it turned out, Hermione and Theo had had one last moment together before Hogwarts had turned into a gruesome battleground. As that one encounter had led to a future Nott, Draco had known the exact type of help that she had been looking for. Although being a pureblood wasn’t “prestigious” enough, there were also such things as pureblood laws —magical laws that superseded wizarding laws passed by the Wizengamot. As it regarded to the children of a pureblood, if the father was dead, the child (or children) were to be raised by the grandfather. In current times, no pureblood family would have to resort to such a thing. Families often lived together such that children were around their grandparents anyway. This, however, had not been the case. Artemis Nott would have wanted to take his son’s child and make sure that Hermione, a muggleborn, stayed _far _away.

When Hermione had come to him, it had been because she knew that Theo had meant something to Draco and that he would want to help. She had been right. Draco had spent an obscene amount of time with her to find ways to circumvent the law. Yes, Artemis was in Azkaban, but if track records had it, he would be out of prison eventually, and Hermione needed a peace of mind. Draco had only meant to offer his aid, not his love. It didn’t help that the media were ravenous wolves and jumped on the Malfoy-Granger bandwagon to sell newspapers. The idea of them together had pleased him, but he knew that Hermione’s heart still belonged to Theo, and so he did nothing. Instead, Draco had stayed by her side when Alex was born. He had supported them in every way, much to the chagrin of his parents who were bothered by the fact that he was “raising a bastard child.” Draco hadn’t cared. The only thing that had mattered was what the media was saying about the baby boy, surnamed Granger. While news outlets had been sure that the child wasn’t Draco’s, they hadn’t a clue who the boy’s father was, and that had suited Draco and Hermione fine. They stayed in blissful contentment for four years, never fully determining what kind of relationship they were in. That defining moment, however, was carved into Draco’s memory just like that moment at Hogwarts.

_“Do you love me, Draco?”_

_Had he been holding anything but a child in his arms, Draco would’ve let his arms fall. As it stood, Alex was sleeping and securely in his grasp, perhaps held even tighter. The blond looked up to find Hermione in the doorway of her son’s bedroom, her face filled with apprehension._

_Draco cleared his throat, suddenly incapable of making eye-contact with her. “I do, yes.”_

_“Why haven’t you asked me to marry you then?” Hermione boldly questioned. Draco couldn’t resist looking at her now for his heart had begun to hammer in his chest. It was possible now that he could very well drop Alex, and so he gently walked over to the boy’s toddler bed and set him down._

_“Would you have said yes if I had asked?” It was an honest question. He watched the woman, analyzing every detail, as she folded her arms and let her hands slide over her shoulders._

_“Depends on when you asked, honestly. A year or two ago? Probably not.”_

_Draco tilted his head. He fully crossed the room to stand directly in front of Hermione whose gaze had shifted to the floor. He raised a finger, placing it under her chin, and with gentle ease, he moved her face so that she could look at him. The apprehension was still there, but there was also something else._

_“And if I asked now?” Draco said tentatively. “Do you love me enough to say yes?”_

_Hermione didn’t say anything, but rather she immediately unraveled her arms and draped them over Draco’s neck. A press of her lips to his came next, and she whispered a soft, “Let’s get married.”_

Draco would be a liar to say that it didn’t still bother him —Hermione’s reluctance to admit how much she loved him. Regardless, they had gotten married later that year. Even now, Draco was still taking care of Theo in a way, but through his son. He loved Alex, and nothing would ever change that. It was simply unfortunate that there was a part of Draco, deeply rooted within, that felt as though Hermione would never love him like she did Theo. It also didn’t help that the seven-year-old boy was turning into Theo more each day. Draco knew that Hermione was seeing her first love every time she looked at Alex, and it would kill her in more ways than one if something ever happened to him.


End file.
